Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 114284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“Dumbass,” I whispered.
His eyes crinkled at the corners.
He lowered the can once more, the amusement fading, and he cleared his throat. “I miss you, Walker. I saw online that you were hosting a demo tonight, so I came out…hoping I could talk to you.”
I swallowed hard, suddenly overwhelmed by shame. It weighed on me heavily. I’d handled our situation so damn poorly—mostly when I’d erected an internal wall ten years ago to end the dynamic we’d once had. I’d offered no explanation. To be honest, I’d been scared. I’d finally met Macklin, a young man who’d changed everything for me, and I’d known the relationship Dean and I had shared had been anything but conventional. So I’d tried to pretend it’d never existed.
In retrospect, I was well aware that our bond was much more socially acceptable because we weren’t related by blood, but to me, that had never mattered. Dean was my brother. And I’d still been drawn to him. I’d still felt a need to get a little bit too close.
“I’m incredibly sorry I went too far with Macklin,” he said quietly. “I was angry. I’m—I’m embarrassed to say I felt abandoned by you.”
He didn’t have to explain because deep down, I already knew. I understood how the dominoes had fallen. I knew the circumstances.
“I’m not angry anymore.” I tightened my hold on his hand and planted my other on top. “I can’t blame you for feelin’ that way either, because I did shut you out. I gave us new roles and didn’t tell you about it.”
He drew in a deep breath and stretched out his legs, and he closed his eyes again.
“I’m very sorry for how I treated you, Dean. You deserved better than that.”
He squeezed my hand back and swallowed. “Thank you.”
Better late than never, I prayed. I should’ve apologized years ago.
“We both could’ve handled that situation better. I never demanded any answers.” His low tone carried enough gravel that I understood why he kept his eyes closed. It was okay. Aside from letting my emotions get the best of me at our mother’s funeral, I’d only shown that level of vulnerability with Macklin.
I cleared my throat and blinked back the burning sensation in my own eyes, and I spotted Dean’s test kit on the little side table. Macklin had put it all together earlier.
I figured it was time to check the levels again.
“Either way, I wanna work things out,” I said. I prepared the reader once more and attached a new test strip and lancet. “I miss you too. Even when you’re stupid and scare the fuck outta me.”
He let out a tired chuckle and relaxed his digits when I grabbed his index finger.
Five, four, three, two…
I exhaled with relief. He’d be back above seventy very soon, and then he could eat a proper meal and take his insulin.
“What’s the verdict?”
“You’ll probably live.” I sent him a quick smile and found him watching me.
His mouth twitched with mirth. “That’s a relief. My students would be all too happy to miss my weekly tests.”
Some things never changed. I remembered sleepless nights at the library and elaborate exams from my college days, but Dean had always preferred frequent testing, covering smaller topics and amounts of material.
“I thought once you got tenure, you could do whatever the fuck you wanted,” I said. “Weekly testing seems like a lot of paperwork. How many classes are you teaching?”
His forehead creased. “Sometimes you are a right troll, Walker.”
I grinned.
“I have two classes this semester,” he added. “I wouldn’t have minded a third, but I’m part of a research study, and I’m contracted for a documentary series.”
Well, hell. It wouldn’t be the first time he was some expert in a documentary, but that never got old to me. “What’s the topic this time? Are you gonna have it out with that Falklands War know-it-all from England again?”
He rumbled a laugh that put some color back into his face. It was a good look. “Can you imagine? The man is a living legend.”
We had very different heroes. “Have it out” was a grave exaggeration, of course. They’d had a minor disagreement once.
“I haven’t read the entire premise yet,” he went on, “but it’s about the CIA and how, throughout history, they’ve chosen to release previously classified information.”
I let out a low whistle. “Sounds like somethin’ I’d like to watch. What’s your part of the project?”
He smirked, and it was a little smug. “I’ll be talkin’ about the K-129.”
Ooof. No wonder he was smug. He was going to get paid for talking about his passion in the field, the real version of The Hunt for Red October. No one could mention the Cold War in my brother’s presence without him perking up. Naval greatness combined with intelligence got him going unlike anything else.
A quiet knock on the door burst our bubble, and I looked toward the door as Macklin poked his head in.